


I don't know

by Blanket_Loving_Gay



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dead Peter, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Irondad, Nightmares, PTSD, Sad, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony is depressed, Tony is sad, nebula wants to help, trama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 02:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21172142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanket_Loving_Gay/pseuds/Blanket_Loving_Gay
Summary: Peter is gone, dusted.Tony is stuck in space.Nebula is trying to help.There's nothing they can do.





	I don't know

“Mr. Stark? I - I don’t feel so good. . .”  
With a hesitating horror, I turn my head to see the distressed teenager staring at his hands as he takes a faltering step forward.  
“You’re alright,” I state - because it must be true. He’s going to be alright. My mind is racing a million miles a minute, trying to find some solution, some way out of this situation.

“I - I don’t know what’s happening-” Peter stumbled forward, falling into my arms. He clings to me, holding onto me like a lifeline. “I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go.” The boy’s lips trembled and his eyes were wide with pain and fear. “Mr. Stark, please, I d- don’t wanna go.”  
I held him in horror, unable to help, to stop it from happening.  
“I don’t wanna go-” The boy, who was too young to be here, too young to fight, was held in my arms, begging me to not let him die.

Tony Stark, the Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist, who can’t save the people who matter the most.

“I don’t wanna go.”

This isn’t right.

“I don’t wanna go.”

This can’t be happening.

“I - I’m sorry.”

Sorry for what? You have nothing to be sorry for.

A moment and then he was gone too. Just like Strange, and Quill, and all the others - just dust and ash and nothing to hold onto.

I close my eyes, bringing my hands to my face, trying to block out what’s happening. It can't be real.

Why them? Why him? Why not me?

It should have been me. I deserve to die, not Peter. Not anyone else - me. I deserve to die. I didn’t save them, I couldn’t save them. Not my parents, not my friends, not even this kid, who shouldn’t even be here. It’s my fault that he’s here. It’s my fault. I’m to blame for every horrible thing that’s happened to these people. 

Some “superhero” you are, Tony Stark, you murderer. Everyone you’ve ever loved - dead. And who’s the common denominator?

You.

It's your fault.

It's all your fault.

~

Gasping for breath, Tony Stark sat up in bed; hot tears mix with a cold sweat. He buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It hurts. His chest was heaving, the small amount of air he could squeeze into his lungs was insufficient. Everything hurts. His throat was closing in on itself. His hands shake and his eyes are screwed shut, trying to block out the image that would always haunt him.

In the darkness, the only light coming from the blue glow in his chest keeping him alive, the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist sobbed.

Every night he was forced to relive that moment. Every time he closed his eyes, he was forced to watch Peter - just a kid, with so many hopes and dreams that he would never see through - die in his arms.

It hurts to think about him.

It hurts to remember.

He gritted his teeth and pushed himself off the bed, attempting to pull himself away from the Darkness that hovered over him. 

I have to remember.

Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep, Tony wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled the tray with mismatched bits and pieces from old radios and spare parts closer to the bed and, using his light in his chest to illuminate the small space, continued trying to build the gadget that could save their lives, if he could just get it to work.

The door opened and a figure stood in the entrance, paused. She stepped into the shadow, the sound of her footsteps - the light sound of metal clanging against metal - echoing through the room. 

“Stark?” Nebula asked into the darkness. “Are you awake?” She inquired, knowing perfectly well that he was. She’d heard him screaming in his sleep, as he had done for the past few weeks that they’d been on the ship together.

He nodded. She walked into the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness faster than the average human. During the week or two that they’d been on this ship together, she’d quickly learned that the human, Stark, suffered from frequent nightmares and that if he went a night without screaming, it meant he hadn’t slept at all. She’d also learned that what he needed most after one of these aforementioned nightmares was someone to talk to. Now, she didn’t consider herself a very good listener, but she tried her best. She’d gained an admiration for the human who was able to lay claim to the title of Earth’s Mightiest Defender. He was incredibly smart; clever and quick-witted, able to come up with a solution to almost any problem. He was strong; He had survived a fight with Thanos, a feat that could not be said about many.

But, though he was strong, he was broken. He was an emotional wreck. He had watched too many loved ones die, seen too many horrible things, he’d been through too much for one man alone. 

She'd been trying to help him, give him space, let him heal.

But time was running out and it was time to be frank with him.

She took a breath. "Stark, we can't go on like this." Nebula said, her voice filled with both frustration and something bordering along the lines of pity.

"I know." Tony stared at the tangled mess of wires and metal on the table in front of him, refusing to meet her eye. His voice was tired - exhausted - and almost apathetic, tittering on the edge of sounding empty.

She sighed. "The food is almost gone, we've got no fuel, and oxygen will run out within a week or two." The blue girl stated frankly, basically begging Stark to do something.

"I know."

Nebula groaned in frustration. It wasn’t herself that she was worried about, she was mostly robotic, so the lack of food and air was less of a concern for her (don’t get me wrong, she did need food and air, but she could go long periods of time without eating or even breathing, so it posed less of a concern) - She was more worried about Stark. He was human and therefore needed food and air more than she did. She was trying to keep him alive so he could get them to Earth and help fix the disaster that had been caused by Thanos’ insane attempt for ‘balance’.

A sigh slipped past her lips and she decided that trying to debate with Gamora on a bad day would be easier than trying to convince Stark to take action when he was acting like this.

Changing tactics, she took a hesitant step forward, carefully closing the gap between herself and the bed. “What are you doing?" She asked, taking a seat next to him, watching as his fingers fiddled with the metal and a small, bright flame from a welder that he'd connected to his arc reactor.

"I'm trying to make a signal booster to help spread our distress signal." He answered, monotone. "If it works, we could send a signal to Earth and get my team to come to help us."

"Is it working?"

He sighed, his hands shaking slightly as he placed the makeshift tools back on the desk, turning to her.

"I- I don't know."


End file.
